Tuesday, May 29, 2012

In the summer following my graduation
from high school, I spent six weeks at Pendle
Hill, a Quaker center near Philadelphia. Pendle Hill gave me a
holistic education. I developed a practice of exercise, and to notice
how my body responded to different kinds of food and activities. I
participated in extended periods of silent worship, and I began a
regular practice of journaling, which I continue to this day. I
learned to look beyond surface-level facts and see what was happening
at a deeper level.

Beginning that summer and continuing
over the next couple of years, I became increasingly self-aware. I
came to realize that neither my emotions, nor my body, nor my
conscious mind were all of who I was. At first, I experienced this
realization as a distressing sense of disconnection. If my body was
not who I was, nor my emotions, nor my mind, then who was I?

Eventually, I became aware of a part of
myself that was neither mind, body nor emotion. Physically, I
experienced it as being centered in my breath. It felt like a hollow,
receptive place where there was both emptiness and fullness.
Inexplicably, in the emptiness of my breath, I identified the core of
who I really was. Strangest of all, I developed a capacity to be
aware of myself almost like an outside observer.

I took note of the signals my body was
sending me, but I chose how to respond from the center. I experienced
emotions flooding over me - but my awareness ran deeper than the
emotions, and I could decide how to react. I studied my thought
patterns with interest, realizing that even my own ideas were just
like the signals that came from body and emotions: important, worth
paying attention to, but not defining me.

I still remember my surprise upon
discovering this hidden center within myself. Because it seemed
empty, my first reaction was to wonder whether "I"
really existed at all! If there was nothing there at my core, then
who was I? I struggled here for a long time. In college, I drifted
away from Christian faith, eventually becoming philosophically
pantheist and
politically anarchist.
Yet, I was still wrestling deeply with issues of truth and meaning.
At the heart of those struggles, the most fundamental question
continued to be: "Who am I, really?"

It was with this budding awareness of
my interior landscape and my deep thirst for truth and meaning, that
I graduated from college in the spring of 2004. I became an intern at
the Casa de los Amigos,
a Quaker center in Mexico City. There, I had the opportunity to study
Quakerism in depth and to participate in silent worship with a local
Quaker congregation.

In the silence, my interior awareness
exploded. In Quaker worship, there was nothing for me to do except
attend to the holy
center. I waited in the empty space within my breath until I
discovered that it was not empty at all. There was something alive
and moving in the midst, something that came from beyond me and was
far greater than anything I could imagine. As I waited in stillness,
I discovered that the God I had looked for everywhere else was here,
waiting for me, in the core of my being. In the darkness, there was
Light; in the emptiness, infinite Substance. And this Substance was
teaching me! It showed me the truth about myself, revealing the
places in my body, mind and emotions that were broken. From the
inside out, this miraculous Presence began to heal and transform me.

I know now that this loving Presence
within me is the Holy Spirit. I understand now that this receptive
place within my breath is like the holy
of holies in the ancient Jewish Temple, the inner sanctuary where
the very presence of God resided. I have learned both from Scripture
and in my own experience that, when I accept this inward Substance
and Presence into my life, I become part of the Temple of God.

Experience has also taught me that this
inward Holiness will not be confined to the innermost sanctuary. This
Life and Power is like a fountain springing up within me. It fills my
spirit, mind, emotions and body, transforming and uniting all of them
in their common Source. Amazingly, I am learning that I am called to
be so filled with Christ's Spirit that I am remade in his likeness.
As that empty space within me is filled, my most profound identity
becomes the
very person of Jesus, and I myself become a
child of God, co-heir to the promise.

Perhaps I am speaking in terms that
seem mysterious. It is true, these realities are mysterious! Human
words stumble in expressing their depths. Yet, ultimately, these
things are not to be explained, they are to be lived into.
Furthermore, the experiences that I have described do not have to be
accepted as mere beliefs. Check and see for yourself. Anyone
can test these observations - if they are willing to look within and
bear the distress of self-knowledge.

This awareness does come at a price.
Though it is available to everyone, our tendency is to flee from the
inner life. It is just too painful to see ourselves as we really are.
It is no coincidence that the ancient Hebrews begged
Moses to go up and speak to God for them. They knew very well
that to see God means to die. Yet, for those who have journeyed to
the inward mountaintop and stood in the presence of God, the pain of
transformation is nothing
compared to the depths of joy and peace that God gives us as we
are remade in the image of Christ. As we allow the Presence to flow
out from the holy of holies, we are clothed in God's humility and
gentleness, truth and mercy, love and justice.

The road is long, and great challenges
accompany it, but to begin is simple. The way to God's presence lies
within. In the apparent emptiness of our breath - this holy center
- we can welcome God's beautiful Life into our innermost parts.
This transforming Power is available to everyone, if we will seek it.

Saturday, May 26, 2012

Therefore, since we are
surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside
every weight and the sin that clings so closely, and let us run with
perseverance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus as the
pioneer and perfecter of our faith, who for the sake of the joy that
was set before him endured the cross, disregarding its shame, and has
taken his seat at the right hand of the throne of God. -
Hebrews 12:1-2

This year, the celebration of Pentecost
falls on Memorial Day weekend. This unusual alignment of these two
days of remembrance has spurred me to do some thinking about the
relationship between Memorial Day and Pentecost. The former is
traditionally a celebration in
remembrance of those who have given their lives in military service,
while the latter commemorates the in-pouring of God's Spirit into the
world. Many Christians will celebrate these two days side by side,
without any sense of contradiction.

I will remember the way that so many
have laid down their own privilege and comfort to serve the poor and
the lost. And I will remember how I was one of those lost ones. I
will give thanks for the grace these servants of God showed, loving
me in spite of all the ways I pushed them away.

I will remember Dorothy Craven, who
lived a life of simple faithfulness and gentle love for all people. I
praise God for the way she laid aside her comfort and walked in faith
with the Friends of Jesus commmunity in Wichita, Kansas. She served
as an elder to us, a
mother in the gospel. She introduced me to the writings of Thomas
Kelly and taught me Algebra, even though I was probably the most
frustrating student she ever had. She loved me when I did not deserve
it. She believed in me when there was no good reason to do so. She
was Jesus to me.

Dorothy has now joined that great cloud
of witnesses that surrounds me. Sitting at Jesus' right hand, these
faithful witnesses call me forward. They spur me to greater courage
and vulnerability in love. They are my heroes, and I experience them
as being somehow, mysteriously alive in the Spirit that unites us.
This Memorial Day, I will remember these holy ones who stand,
unarmed, by the throne of God. Together with Jesus, they call me into
a life of fearless love and peace. This Pentecost, I will celebrate
the Holy Spirit that unites us beyond life and death.

Tuesday, May 22, 2012

To the Jews I became as a Jew, in
order to win Jews. To those under the law I became as one under the
law (though I myself am not under the law) so that I might win those
under the law. To those outside the law I became as one outside the
law (though I am not free from God's law but am under Christ's law)
so that I might win those outside the law. To the weak I became weak,
so that I might win the weak. I have become all things to all people,
that I might by all means save some. - 1 Corinthians 9:21-22

The ancient society where Christianity
emerged consisted of a wide variety of local cultures, all united
under Roman rule. Greeks and Jews mingled, and the cities of the
Empire allowed a cosmopolitanism that had rarely existed before in
Western history. The early followers of Jesus were challenged to
share the gospel message in a context where all truth was relativized
under the coercive power of the Roman state. In that society, people
could worship whatever gods they chose - so long as they also
worshiped Caesar.

I also live in a society where people
worship a variety of "gods" and participate in many
subcultures and lifestyles. Yet, just as was the case in ancient
Rome, the modern-day empire I live in is held together by a set of
common assumptions. Although no one is required to literally worship
the State or its rulers, this society is held together by the
veneration of wealth and the exercise of political power. All of us,
from smallest to greatest, are caught up in an economic and political
system that demands our allegiance just as surely as Caesar ever did.

This is scary stuff. It is not accident
that the rulers and authorities of ancient Rome brutally tortured and
executed Jesus, and continued to persecute Jesus' followers for
centuries. When we directly confront the foundations of Empire, we
should expect a response that is in keeping with Empire's way of
doing business.

Despite all of the persecution, torture
and summary executions that the early Christians faced, the early
Church did not condemn the whole of Greco-Roman society. On the
contrary, the early Christian community made great efforts to
communicate the good news in terms that would speak clearly to the
wide variety of cultures and experiences that made up the ancient
world. Rather than insisting that everyone become a Jew, the
disciples proclaimed
a new way that was open to all people, regardless of their ethnic or
cultural affiliation.

How can I share the good news in ways that affirm the diversity
of culture, language, identity and experience that I encounter in my
city? How can I lift up that which is good in my cosmopolitan
society, while at the same time challenging the harmful foundation of
greed and pride that has taken us captive? How can I model and preach
a gospel that, rather than eliminating our differences, places all of
us on a
new foundation in Jesus?

Friday, May 18, 2012

I
recently read Christianity
After Religion by Diana
Butler Bass, in which she argues that the Church in the United
States is losing its hold on the imagination of its people. She
offers evidence that mainstream Christianity in America is entering
into a period of sharp decline, mirroring the decay of Christendom in
Western Europe in the last century. Yet, while she has dire
predictions about the future of the established Church, she is
optimistic about faith in America.

Bass notes that
while increasing numbers of Americans shy away from the word
"religion," many identify themselves as being "spiritual."
"Spirituality," she argues, has become a code word for
experiential religion, based on the direct, practical and
transformative experience of God. "Religion," on the other
hand, serves as a label for all of the institutional baggage and
heavy-handed dogma that the Christian community has developed over
the course of recent centuries.

Bass
points out that in recent centuries the Church has operated primarily
on the basis of accepting propositional statements (e.g. "Jesus
is fully human and fully divine"). That is, to belong to the
Christian community, you must first believe certain things about
Jesus. A transformed life was beneficial, of course, but the act of
accepting certain theological statements was the most essential
element of Christian identity.

Bass is convinced
that this emphasis on right belief no longer works in our present
cultural context. Instead, she argues that the health of the Church
depends on reversing the established dynamic of "believing,
behaving, belonging." While propositional beliefs about God and
Jesus are ultimately essential, they are not the first order of
business. For this generation, the hierarchy of needs is different.

This was certainly
my own experience. When I first committed to nurturing my
relationship with God, my top priority was finding a community to
belong to. I was beginning to trust in God, but I did not have any
specific beliefs about Jesus, and was skeptical of Christianity in
general (as many in my generation are). Fortunately, I found a Quaker
community that was able to love and accept me as I was. Though I had
lots of hang-ups, and my theology was still a jumbled mess, they were
patient with me and did not jump in to correct me. Instead, my
newfound community encouraged me to study the Quaker tradition, and
to dedicate myself to the practices of waiting worship, discernment
and personal prayer.

These practices
were a gateway for me into discovering the intellectual contours of
my faith. As I waited in the silence, studied the tradition, learned
to pray and began to read the Scriptures, my life began to change - and so did my ideas about God! I started learning about who Jesus is, allowing him to speak to me
through the Scriptures and through his Spirit. No one was forcing me
to adopt a party line, yet as I continued to engage in prayer and
study, I found myself growing into a deeper appreciation for orthodox
Christian faith.

Just as Diana
Butler Bass argues, for me the traditional pattern was reversed:
Instead of "believing, behaving, belonging," I first found
belonging in a supportive spiritual community. There, I learned
practices that taught me how to "behave." Finally, this
supportive community and the spiritual practices they taught me drew me into an authentic set of beliefs, grounded in both my
own personal experience and in Scripture.

Ironically,
now that I have gone through this process, I often forget how
I got here. It is easy for me to get into a mindset that demands
belief first, rather than seeing propositional belief as the product
of a journey through belonging and practice. This tendency to insist on belief up front is deeply ingrained in the culture of the Christian
community, and it will take real effort on our part to learn to
reverse the equation.

Here
in our context at Capitol
Hill Friends, this might look like an emphasis on naming
spiritual gifts and nurturing spiritual practices. By acknowledging
the spiritual gifts that God has given to our community, we nurture
belonging. A person does not have to believe that Jesus is divine
before we can recognize that God has given that person a gift of
healing, or administration, or knowledge. And by naming these gifts,
we can invite each one, no matter where they are at in their journey,
to walk deeper on the path of faith. We can provide resources for
adopting spiritual practices that help sustain us in our personal
lives, and in the work that we do in the world.

At the end of the
day, I hope that this combination of unconditional acceptance and the
teaching of spiritual practices will lead to deeply rooted faith. In
the context of loving community and time-tested spiritual practices,
we can open up space in our lives to discover the Truth that we find
expressed in Scripture and our tradition as Quakers. On this path of
"belonging, behaving, believing," the acceptance
of certain theological concepts will represent the culmination of a
long process of engagement and growth, rather than the starting point.

How does this
resonate with you? What is your own experience of belief, behavior (practice) and belonging? How do you
think that we can do a better job of inviting seekers into our
Christian communities, teaching spiritual practices, and encouraging
an ever-deepening engagement with our shared faith?

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Though God calls me for a purpose and
promises to walk with me in the Way, God does not promise to ensure
my emotional or material comfort. Jesus does not promise that this
life of ministry will be pleasant, only that he will accompany me.
If I want to be faithful to God's plan for my life, I must first
accept that faithfulness may not look anything like success. The Lord
does not protect his faithful ones from suffering, only
from corruption.

In my experience, one prayer that God
answers consistently and immediately is this one: "Lord, humble
me." Help me to set my sights lower, smaller, simpler. Teach me
to quit making the ministry about myself - even vicariously through
my community. Show me how to be truly surrendered, bearing
my cross for the sake of the gospel. Allow me to shed my need to
"be somebody" in this world - to accept that I am just an
"extra" in this great historical drama. No one needs to
know my name.

Humble me, Lord. Make me less aware of
myself and teach me to attend to the needs of others. Deepen my life
of prayer - not to increase my own comfort, but so that I emanate your peace, joy and guileless love to those around me.

Friday, May 11, 2012

I have been given many opportunities
this month to travel in gospel service to a variety of communities,
both among Friends and in the wider ecumenical Church. In all of my
travels, I have joined with my brothers and sisters in asking hard
questions: As followers of Jesus, how are we called to work for
economic justice and the practical liberation of all people? As
disciples of the enfleshed Word, how are we to understand our lives
as sexual beings? As a people who have been transformed by the love
and authority of the Lord Jesus, how do we lead lives that proclaim
him - his joy, his power, his peace?

The lengthiest trip I took this month
was to visit Friends in Pendleton, Indiana. Several months ago, I was
contacted by the clerk of Whitewater Quarterly Meeting in Ohio
Valley Yearly Meeting, inviting me to speak at their gathering in
April. I could speak about whatever God laid on my heart - though he
mentioned that Friends would be very interested to hear about my
experiences as a Quaker in the Occupy movement.

I felt clear to accept the invitation,
traveling under a
minute from Rockingham
Monthly Meeting and Stillwater Quarterly Meeting (Ohio YM).
During the afternoon session, I spoke out of the silence, and it was
opened to me to speak about God's call for us to emerge from our
addiction to comfort and pride. I invited Friends to embrace the
radical worldview of Christ's Kingdom, which challenges us to
engagement in a broken world. Grounding my sermon in Christ's
words to the Church in Laodicea, I felt moved to encourage those
present to pursue the passionate commitment and humility that our
faith demands. If we open ourselves to the transforming power of the
Spirit, we can emerge from lukewarmth and fear, embracing the
prophetic faith of Jesus.

The word I was given did encounter some
resistance from some Friends present. Nevertheless, I was encouraged
to see that others received the word with joy. Some were deeply moved
by the message, feeling directly addressed by the Lord.

A couple of weeks later, I had another
opportunity to speak, this time as part of a panel discussion at
Virginia Theological
Seminary, one of the premier Episcopal seminaries in North
America. I was invited to speak alongside several weighty leaders in
the Episcopal Church, including a retired
bishop turned activist and the current
rector of Trinity Wall Street - a very prominent parish in lower
Manhattan. I was thankful for the opportunity to address an assembly
of seminary students and professors, representing a significant
portion of the present and future leadership in the Episcopal Church.

I was able to speak about my experience
as a Christian occupier, working for economic justice in the name of
Jesus Christ. I felt that the Spirit was present with us in the
gathering, and it was opened to me to exhort those present -
especially the seminary students - to dare to question the moral
assumptions of the present culture, which relies more on
laissez-faire capitalist philosophy than on the loving example of our
crucified Savior. Though much of the Church has been seduced by these
human philosophies, we were reminded that our authentic witness as
followers of Jesus will
seem like foolishness to the world.

The last major trip that I took this
month was to a retreat held by Ohio Yearly Meeting on the subject of
human sexuality. For almost two years now, Friends in Ohio Yearly
Meeting have been openly wrestling with our shared understanding of
God's intention for human sexuality, and what this means for us in
practical terms as a fellowship. Last summer, the Yearly Meeting
directed a committee (which I served on) to organize a gathering
where Friends could hold these concerns in the Spirit together,
sensing how God might be guiding us.

For my part, I was very nervous about
this event. This is hard stuff for Friends to talk about, and at
times I wondered whether anybody was even going to show up. To my
surprise and joy, there were around fifty Friends who traveled from
almost every Meeting in the Yearly Meeting to practice shared
discernment. This in a Yearly Meeting with an active membership of
maybe two hundred!

Even more important than the number of
people present, the Holy Spirit was there with us. The whole
gathering was grounded in worship, and we were able to largely avoid
the caustic back-and-forth the so often characterizes conversation
around sexuality. Speaking largely arose from a place of vocal
ministry or intimate sharing of personal experience, rather than
debate. I felt that we emerged from this gathering with a greater
sense of love, trust and fellowship - praise God!

The biggest single insight that I
perceived to emerge from our time together was this: We in Ohio
Yearly Meeting have significant areas of unity in our understanding
of human sexuality, though there are also major areas of disunity.
There was a shared sense that we would do best to proceed in love,
examining first those areas where we sensed unity, and gradually
working our way into the harder areas, those subjects where there is
serious disagreement. Our understandings of homosexuality are, as one
Friend put it, "the deep end of the pool." We know that
there is a large range of opinions about the rightness of gay and
lesbian relationships, and we will need to proceed tenderly - and
deliberately - as we seek the Lord's will in these matters.

I left the gathering with a sense of
unity in the process of discernment that we are engaging in together.
I felt that despite our serious disagreements on some subjects -
particularly our understandings of gay and lesbian relationships -
that everyone involved is acting in good faith and seeking the Lord's
will as best they know how. This goes a long way towards
reconciliation between individuals, and eventual unity within the
Body as a whole. If we can stay humble and grounded in the Spirit, I
dare to hope that the Risen Lord will draw
us together in one mind and the same love.

Back in DC, the work continues. Capitol
Hill Friends continues to grow in spiritual depth, as well as in
numbers and vitality. I give thanks for the amazing sisters and
brothers whom God has sent to help ground this little church in the
midst of the city. I continue to pray that the
Lord will send more workers into the field of his harvest. My
work in the wider community is moving ahead, and I continue to be
active in foreclosure resistance with Occupy
Our Homes. In all of this, I am learning how to practice
self-care and not over-do it. I am finding that a life grounded in
prayer and the study of Scripture is essential to the kind of public
ministry that God is calling me to, among Friends and in the wider
community.

We are now a third of the way through
May, and it looks to be a beautiful summer. I am so thankful for the
many blessings that God has poured out on me and my fellow workers
here in DC. Thank you for your support and encouragement. Your
prayers have real effects that are felt here. Never doubt it.

Tuesday, May 08, 2012

When Gentiles, who do not posess the
law, do instinctively what the law requires, these, though not having
the law, are a law to themselves. They should that what the law
requires is written on their hearts, to which their own conscience
also bears witness... - Romans
2:14-15

But how are they to call on one in
whom they have not believed? And how are they to believe in one of
whom they have never heard? And how are they to hear without someone
to proclaim him? - Romans 10:14

As a
Quaker, it is my conviction that every person - regardless of their
status or circumstance - has access to the inward light of Jesus
Christ. I confess with the authors of both Old
and New
Testaments that, "the word is very near to [us]; it is in [our]
mouth and in [our hearts] for [us] to observe." Despite all the
hurdles that keep us away from God, the living presence of the Holy
Spirit draws near, pressing at our hearts and inviting us into the
loving embrace of our Savior.

At the
same time, I am also convinced that the good news needs to be
preached. Hearing the gospel story - the life, teaching, death and
resurrection of Jesus - has the power to transform us, when we
receive it in the light of the Spirit. The inspired preaching of
modern day prophets
has the power to call us into deeper relationship with God. In my own
experience, God has used other people - living and deceased - to
shape my walk. I cannot imagine how I ever could have been saved from
the death-dealing worldview of the present order without the faithful
witness of so
many brothers and sisters.

So,
which is it? Does God directly inspire and draw us into Christ's
Kingdom without the need of human intermediaries? Or does God work
through people who are called to the work of proclamation? As is
often the case with the things of the Spirit, the truth seems to be
found in the midst of paradox. The above passages, both taken from a
letter that Paul wrote to the Christians in Rome, demonstrate the
tension between two truthful answers. Yes,
God's witness in the human heart is sufficient for Christ's sovereign
work of grace. And yes,
God uses human beings as instruments of grace, mercy and salvation to
the world.

My
take-away from this is two-fold. First, I am convinced that God is in
control. In a certain sense, God does not "need" us. Our
wrong actions - whether out of willful disobedience or simple
ignorance - are never able to foul up God's long-term purpose for the
cosmos. This is deeply reassuring for me. No matter how badly I - or
humanity in general - screws up, God will find a way to enact his
loving purposes.

On the
other hand, I am convinced that God's intention is to use each of us
as agents in the holy work of healing the world. How are
they to hear without someone to proclaim him?
God wants us to share the good news that we have received! God wants
to use our lives to proclaim the riches of his glory, through our
words and deeds, through our family life and daily work. Amazingly
enough, each of us is truly necessary for the work of the Holy Spirit in
the world. Though it would seem to us that God does not need us at
all, in some mysterious sense we are indispensable!

What
is your experience of the way God pours out love and salvation? How
have you seen God transforming your life and the lives of those
around you? How have you made sense of the paradox of God's work,
which needs no intermediaries but yet is so often accomplished
through the faithfulness of particular women and men?

Friday, May 04, 2012

Though it is sometimes hard to believe, the Quaker community began as a radical, free-form network that
gave great autonomy to individual ministers. It was intensely focused
on the mission of spreading the gospel message throughout England,
Europe, the Americas, and beyond. Friends emphasized the
transforming power of Jesus Christ within us and among us, and the
organizing principles of the early movement reflected this priority.
Though Friends would eventually congeal into settled communities under the watchful eyes of duly appointed ministers, elders and
overseers, the first decades of the Quaker movement were explosive
and fluid.

In this very early period, the basic
unit of Quaker organization was the traveling ministry team -
itinerant gospel preachers who went from village to village,
preaching the good news wherever they could find an audience. They
were often beaten, jailed and stripped of their possessions - and
with good reason! These early evangelists were often quite
disruptive, performing shocking prophetic signs, including walking
naked through the streets. Quaker preachers often appeared at
government-run worship services and contradicted the sermons of the
local priest.

The early Friends were more a
grassroots movement than an established religious tradition,
spreading through the power of the message these itinerant prophets
proclaimed. Friends eschewed hierarchical styles of organization, and
rejected the fixed ceremonies of the establishment church. Though
Quakers sometimes had to clarify that someone was not
a Friend, early on there was no fixed membership. People knew who the
Friends were simply by the way they acted and spoke. Being a Quaker
was enormously risky, because the price of belonging was to take a
public stand against the idolatry of the false religious systems of
the day.

Within
a few decades, much of this initial fire and fluidity had dissipated.
In the face of repeated waves of state persecution - fines,
confiscations of property, beatings, imprisonments and worse -
Friends banded together in tight-knit communities where they could
provide for one another, especially for the families of those in
prison. In the context of increasingly intense pressure by the
restored British monarchy, George
Fox spent years helping Friends develop a highly structured organization. These structures helped to shield Quakers from the worst of
the persecution, deflecting public criticism and facilitating mutual
aid. As
Friends developed these structures, there was an
inevitable centralization of authority - first in the area gathering
of Friends (the Monthly Meeting), and finally in the national
gathering based in London (the Yearly Meeting).

These
structures probably saved the Quaker community from annihilation.
Thanks to an increasingly centralized governance structure based in London, Friends were able to effectively lobby the
government for toleration. The deepening authority of the area
gatherings (Monthly Meetings) allowed Friends to keep a tight lead on
those individuals who might get the whole community into trouble.
When necessary, such individuals were publicly denounced as
provocateurs. This
process, called "disownment," drew a clear line between
those who were abiding by the norms of the Quaker community, and those
who were dangerous renegades.

All of
this made sense at the time. People were getting killed as the result
of the silly actions of a few, and it was only prudent to batton down
the hatches and distance the community from the dangerous activities
of the more radical fringe. If Fox and his lieutenants had not
succeeded in developing a more tightly structured organization for
the movement, Friends very well might have been entirely suppressed.
Nevertheless, these adaptations did not come without a price.

Just
like the early Christian Church, the initial years of the Quaker
movement were characterized by an expectation of the imminent culmination of history. Friends experienced the risen presence of
Jesus, and they were sure that the end of history was just around the
corner. The Kingdom was come! There was nothing left to do but
proclaim it and invite others into it before the time of decision
finally came to a close. This apocalyptic vision could not survive
the transition from free-wheeling movement to established sect. Just
like the first-century Church, the Quaker movement hardened and
consolidated; it became an institution to be preserved, rather than a
message to be proclaimed with abandon.

What
would happen if we
once again became a movement that placed all its focus on the
transforming power of the gospel message? How would our present
structures and assumptions change to reflect this passionate embrace
of Christ's mission? What would melt away, and what would remain
essential? What would be open to compromise, and what would emerge as
the rock-solid foundations of our faith? What would happen if
Quakerism once again became a radical, apocalyptic movement? Not a
sect - not a structure to be preserved, nor an organization to be
sustained - but a real movement rallying around a living experience
of the Risen Lord Jesus?

I am
convinced that we are living in an historical moment that demands
movement rather than
monument; message
rather than creed; and full-bodied engagement
rather than circumscribed ritual. I do not know what the next steps
will look like, but I pray for courage to lay all things -
structures, communities, rituals, organizations and identity - at
Jesus' feet. Without a doubt, he is here to teach us and lead us
himself, if we dare to be his disciples.

Tuesday, May 01, 2012

Be completely humble and gentle; be
patient, bearing with one another in love. Make every effort to keep
the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. There is one body
and one Spirit, just as you were called to one hope when you were
called; one Lord, one faith, one baptism; one God and Father of all,
who is over all and through all and in all. -
Ephesians 4:2-6

Occupy provides an opening to reexamine
the basic teachings of Jesus, rediscovering the radical call to
economic
justice and self-sacrificial
love that is at the heart of the gospel. Too often, we
ignore the radical implications of Jesus' message, preferring to
focus on esoteric theology or narratives of personal fulfillment.
Whether consciously or not, we distract ourselves. We would prefer
almost anything to a Savior who calls us to abandon
all worldly security, following him with single-minded passion
and wreckless abandon.

So often, we Christians flee from who
Jesus really is. He loves us deeply, and he walks alongside us in the way; all of this is true. But his is no cheap grace. Following Jesus
does not mean security in any normal sense. Rather, being a disciple
of Jesus Christ is an invitation into a world turned upside down - a
world in which our old ideas of security and success no longer apply.
As we discover who Jesus is, and begin to grow more like him, we
discover that our wealth, status and privilege are all stumbling
blocks that get in the way of real love. We begin to see that, if we
want to be like Jesus, we must imitate his humility.

I saw a glimpse of this kind of
humility on Friday afternoon. I watched two men who have been on
opposite sides of an ideological battle stand together and celebrate
the Eucharist - the Episcopalian rite of reconciliation and communion
in Christ. Despite their serious public disagreements - even legal
disputes - these two Church leaders were able to re-affirm their
bonded relationship as followers of Jesus. I pray that these two
leaders might receive the full spiritual meaning of this ritual, and
that God will strengthen them to serve together as examples of
humility and mutual submission to Jesus Christ.

As Christians, we can never allow our
own ideas to be at the center. When we open ourselves to the living work
of the Holy Spirit in our midst, we find that all of our competing
agendas are relativized. We have ceased to insist on getting our own
way, instead praying as one Body, "not our will, Lord, but thy
will." When we are baptized into this kind of corporate
humility, Christ leads us into the radical, surprising life of
service that has been waiting for us all along.

None of this is simple. It often seems
impossible for us to drop our baggage and simply wait together on the
Spirit to guide us. And yet, what
is impossible for men and women is possible for God. Can we bring
ourselves to pray for this baptism of humility? Will we ask God to
humble us and bring us into unity, transforming us into the people
that we were created to be? Are we ready for real change - not just
for others, but for ourselves as well?